Dirty Little Secret
by kittykat221B
Summary: Or maybe Sherlock was too distracted with Moriarty, perhaps it was time for a meeting. John sent out a text, it read. It's time- JW
1. Chapter 1

As amusing as it was that Sherlock thought he was ordinary, he was getting quite sick of it. Sherlock was always brushing him off or calling him an idiot and his praise needed work as well. But John, being the soldier he is just ignored it, a few times it got out of hand and he stormed out to the pub but he had his temper pretty much under wraps. But it was pathetic how he _still_ hadn't figured it out. John was an amazing actor but he couldn't be _this_ good, not good enough to fool the great Sherlock Holmes. Or maybe Sherlock was too distracted with Moriarty, perhaps it was time for a meeting.

John sent out a text, it read.

_It's time.-JW_

* * *

Just after John left was when he sent the message. Grabbing his laptop he opened it up to a chat and sent the message

_Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. _He stopped and smirked, then he added

_The Pool. Midnight._

It was an impatient wait until midnight, he left fifteen minutes early so he wouldn't be late and perhaps catch a glance at Moriarty arriving. He was ecstatic to finally be meeting the criminal mastermind behind the best cases he's had in a long time, if only time would hurry along. He was secretly happy John was not involved in any of this, even if he was an ex soldier this was still a very powerful criminal who, he figured had immense power in the criminal underground. If he came out of this alive he wouldn't tell John about his encounter with Moriarty, it'd only make him fuss and John would make sure he had eyes on him at all times. He really didn't need another set of eyes around all of London watching him, Mycroft was enough and now Moriarty seemed to know what he was doing. So it was best for him not to know.

Finally midnight came around and Sherlock stepped into the pool, twiddling the memory stick in his fingers behind his back. There was no other person inside, he was alone. _Wants to make an entrance then, fine. _He glanced around at his surroundings, there was a sound, barely a scrape of a boot against concrete but it was enough, Moriarty was here and he had brought company.

He held up the memory stick. "Brought you a little getting to know you present." He paused, of course that's what he had aimed for this whole time, he had given him those puzzles to solve so he would forget all about the plans, but he was smarter than that.

"That's what it's all been for isn't it? All your little puzzles making me dance, all to distract me from this." He was facing the door where he had come in when he heard a shuffle behind him.

_John. _John Watson was Moriarty? But he was so ordinary, ex soldier with a psychosomatic limp nothing special, but here he was standing in front of him like he had planned this. How could have he been so unobservant, to miss the fact that his _flatmate_ and only friend was Moriarty. The one who had killed an old woman for describing how he sounded, bombed the flat across from theirs and indirectly killing four people.

John started to talked. "Evening. This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock?"

Sherlock could only imagine the look on his face, horror probably. Fear. "John, what the hell-"

"Bet you never saw this coming," he smiled but it disappeared in a flash, Sherlock barely caught it.

But John was so morally sound, he had an annoying conscience and he was a better man than Sherlock would ever-_oh. Ohhh._ John had opened the parka to reveal the Semtex that was strapped to his body and the red dot that appeared over his heart, was the fifth and final pip. He continued to speak.

"What would you like me to make him say next?" By now Sherlock had been taking cautious steps towards John and he was in a close range when he heard what he said next.

"Gottle o gear, gottle o gear, gottle o gear," his voice faltered on the last one and he'd had enough.

"Stop it." He faced John. But he just wouldn't shut up and he needed to get John out of here, safely without causing the bombs to explode.

"Nice touch this, the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him, I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart." Sherlock was starting to panic now, but now he knew John was not, in fact Moriarty which made him breathe a little easier.

"Who are you?" He demanded looking all around himself. There was the sound of a door opening on the opposite end of the pool and a voice chimed out.

"I gave you my number, I thought you might call." A man stepped out, the very same man Molly had introduced to them at St. Barts, he had been nobody he barely even took a glance at him. Next came an innuendo and an introduction.

"Jim Moriarty, hii-ii," he said it in a singsong voice and Irish lilt to his voice.

"Jim, from the hospital?" He glanced down at his feet faced contorting. "Did I really make such a fleeting impression?" He sounded disappointed.

Sherlock had his, well John's gun pointed at Moriarty but he wasn't the one holding the gun at John, he knew from one quick glance at John. Moriarty seemed to notice.

"Relax, someone else is holding the rifle," his voice dropped and octave. "I don't like getting my hands dirty."

The man wasn't all that concerned, he leisurely walked with his hands in his pockets like they had all the time in the world. His dark hair was short, not styled. He had dark brown eyes which didn't show any emotion and a mole under his right eye. He was a specialist, like him, or so he said and he had only given him a glimpse of what he had going on in the big bad world. But something flashed in his eyes as he said this, so quick he wasn't sure it was even there to begin with. Jealousy. But he wasn't jealous of him, oh no there was a higher power someone was controlling him. But not doubt was he the one who had committed these crimes.

"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me. And get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me, to disappear to South America?" Jim looked smug.

"Just so." He said and shrugged nonchalant. Brilliant, he was a consultant. _'Just like you.'_

"Consulting criminal, brilliant." And indeed it was, opposite than him. Consulting criminal against a consulting detective two sides of a coin and Jim seemed pleased at his comment. But looked as if he was itching to play another game.

"No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will." Sherlock flicked the safety off the Browning.

"I did." Moriarty didn't seem impressed.

"You came the closest and now you're in my way. Or should I say in _our way._" A compliment, clever.

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment." He was lying.

"Yes you did." Obviously he was flirting.

Moriarty shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, okay I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now." His voice had risen an octave on the last word. "I've shown you what I can do, I cut loose all those people, those little problems. Even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play."

In the corner of his eye he could see John shaking his head, anger on his face. It was confusing, he couldn't get a good reading on John from this angle. But what could he possibly be mad about, mad about this situation? Nothing could have prevented this, not him, not Sherlock not even Moriarty with the higher power controlling him. Moriarty had started to get cocky and the anger grew just a bit on John's face.

"I have loved this, this little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" Brilliant actor then, he could only imagine his boss he's probably right under his nose, but it was a risk playing Jim, playing gay.

"You could have died." Moriarty looked angry.

"That's what people DO!" Sherlock didn't like this game much anymore and neither did he by the look on his face.

"I will stop you." _If not you, your boss. Or even the whole criminal web surrounding them._

"No you won't." Was the response, flat, bored, and Sherlock turned to John.

"You alright?" He turned to John, he was still angry by the look on his face.

But Moriarty leaned in and said that John could talk, encouraged him to talk even. John met his eyes and he saw no fear, only irritation and something secret he couldn't quite get at. John gave him a quick nod and he held out the memory stick for Moriarty to take. _Anything so John gets out of here alive._

"Take it." He was getting desperate and was relieved when Moriarty took them. He saw John give Jim a once over while he stepped forward. He's planning an attack, not the brightest idea when there's a sniper in the pool with them, but there was no way to tell John. Moriarty kissed the memory stick once.

"Oh the missile plan," he saw John's jaw tighten. "_Boring,_ I could have got them anywhere." And he threw them in the pool, that's when John lunged, grabbing hold of Moriarty around his neck and telling him to run. Jim started to laugh and praise Sherlock just as John mentioned that if the sniper was to shoot him they would both go up.

"I can see why you like having him around, so touchingly loyal. But people can get so sentimental about their pets. You've rather shown your hand there Doctor Watson." At that moment Sherlock knew the laser was pointed at him, his head to be exact. It would point at his strongest asset, just like it was pointed at John's heart.

But when John let go of Moriarty and stepped back, hands in the air. Moriarty brushed himself off complaining his suit was 'Westwood' and John dissolved into giggles.

"My my James you have always been one for dramatics."

_To Be Continued...(And nobody knew what happened for a year and a half)_


	2. Lets Go Home

John took the Semtex off but the red dot never left Sherlock's forehead. It suited him bright red against his milky white skin, it made John shudder with glee. The confusion on Sherlock's face made him giggle and he linked arms with James.

"You see Sherlock, James and I are old friends," he said with a smile. Stepping towards Sherlock, John reaches a hand out and touches the side of his face, stroking it softly.

He had always found Sherlock beautiful, even when he would watch him run about London solving crimes and when they met face to face he was even more beautiful in person. John knew immediately that Sherlock trusted him, there was no doubt about it. Sure he had no regards for safety, but he knew better than to accept someone as his flatmate just after they met. It was a wonderful thing that Sherlock trusted him, even now there was no remorse on his face or in his eyes. Sherlock Holmes still trusted the man who had betrayed him in every sense of the word, tragic. And Sherlock didn't freeze at his touch nor did he lean into it, he just let it happen and that made John smile. So he whispered;

"You still trust me." Sherlock mirrored his smile.

"Odd isn't it? You're in charge of the biggest criminal in London right now and I don't feel the need to put you behind bars." His grey eyes flashed with confusion and John chuckled, removing his hand from Sherlock's face.

"Okay Seb you can put away the gun now." The red dot vanished moments later. Some of the tension in Sherlock's shoulders released and they sagged a bit. John turned to James and smiled.

"I think we're done here James, do make sure Sebastian has put that insufferable gun away and remember what happened to Jeffery Hope when he didn't." A brief look of fear flashed in James' eyes and he nodded.

"Of course, John." At that John leaned in to brush a soft kiss on James' cheek and turned back to Sherlock. He looked a bit shocked at the display of affection but John wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of elaborating and he couldn't deduce because John had walls. Walls he'd built so people saw what he wanted them to see, take Sherlock for an example. John wanted him to see a broken ex army doctor with little money, a horrible therapist and a psychosomatic limp; not a criminal mastermind in charge of more than he'd ever know and that's exactly what he saw. The wound in his shoulder was real and from Afghanistan but the limp was fake and he didn't really have a therapist. At first he had thought the limp may have been too much, but it made him seem more mundane and interesting at the same time and he knew Sherlock liked interesting there was no doubt about that. Now all he wanted to do was go back to 221B and sleep.

"Lets go home, that is if you're not going to kill me because I'm certainly not going to kill you." Well, that wasn't quite true obviously he did want to kill Sherlock but he deserved a bit more time as a 'normal' person. As normal as it could get with Sherlock anyways. Linking arms with Sherlock now they walked out of the pool and John caught Sherlock take one last glance at James before they stepped outside.

OvO

There was no doubt that Sherlock knowing that he was the boss of the criminal empire was defiantly a security risk so he called up Seb to bring him the pills. A classified drug he had obtained during and interrogation once upon a time. It wouldn't harm Sherlock it would just erase any memories of the incident at the pool, hopefully. It could go wrong and erase them ever meeting or something similar to that but John hoped it would work as he wanted.

When Seb brought him the pills he shook one out of the bottle and crushed it to a fine powder and mixed it into his tea with the sugar. Sherlock still looked a bit high strung and his eyes were drooping a bit, John handing him tea seemed to startle him.

"I didn't ask for tea." He said simply.

John shrugged. "I know. I felt you needed some." And he leaned back into his armchair and sighed. He spotted Sherlock sniffing the tea before he took a sip. _Of course he's cautious now John you're a criminal ready to poison him any second._ Which was pretty true, he had many, many poisons he could use and injections up his sleeve, literally. But of course he only used them when necessary, or needed like caught Sherlock's eye as he continued to sip his tea, his blinks were starting to get slower with each sip and John smiled. Realization dawned on Sherlock's face as his cup clattered to the floor and he went unconscious. John sighed and went to clean the mess up.

OvO

The results weren't what he was expecting. Not at all. The damn pills didn't work, he still remembered everything. He'd have to call Seb or James to get this sorted out. Useless bloody pills, what use are they if the damn things don't fucking work? John was furious, he wasn't used to not getting his way. He _always _got his way, even if people had to die for him to get it. But the most infuriating thing about the whole thing was, that Sherlock hadn't mentioned it yet. Hell, he wouldn't have even known if it didn't work if he hadn't given him that look. The look of curiosity and caution. It had been brief but enough to know the damn pills didn't work.

"Sherlock we need to talk," he used his best doctor voice. "I wasn't trying to drug you and kill you. I just wanted you to forget this ever happened." Sherlock looked at him from his seat on the couch and scowled.

"How come I can't read you?" That was not the response he was expecting.

"What?" What the hell was he getting at? Sherlock shifted his body until he fully faced John.

"I can only see the normal stuff, John. This new revelation should have opened up brand new deductions about you. But all I get are the regular things." John basked in the frustrated look on Sherlock's face and laughed.

"Do you really expect me not to have protection? If I didn't you would have discovered me ages ago, or you're ass of a brother would have. I have walls Sherlock, that I've been building for years. I'm not tearing them down because you know what I do for a living." Sherlock seemed to take this in with a new light.

"Ah so it was a cover, this whole time you were acting. Our friendship was built on your lies then hmmm? Were you really and army doctor? Did you really get shot? Or was that a lie too, John. God, I don't even know why I trust you, even now it makes no sense." John was a bit speechless, he didn't expect that to come out of Sherlock's mouth. It was a bit out of character, like he had no idea he thought of them as friends but he did have the right to be sceptical.

"I needed something more in my life. I had already gotten my doctorate so I decided to join the army and become an army doctor. I was patching up a young man when I got shot. I was devastated but when I came back James was waiting for me with a new sniper, newly discharged from the army like I was but not for the same thing. I hired him straight away and James handed back over the throne. Then I caught wind of you and everything changed. My limp was fake but the bullet wound was real, I never had a therapist and no, I don't regret my time in the army for one second." He took a deep breath and continued. "I didn't think it then, but now I think I chose that path to, as they say, try and atone for my sins. But that's bloody rubbish because I'd never trade any of this for all the money in the world."

Sherlock looked thoughtful, he had gone into his thinking pose eyes shut and everything. The flat was silent the only noise being their shared breathing. But it was true, he'd never trade his criminal empire for any sum of money or anything else. James and Seb were the closest things he had to friends who knew and accepted who he was. Which, he figured didn't count because they worked for him but he still considered them friends and Sherlock would never be them. He would never be them because he was a totally different puzzle and a puzzle worth solving.

OvO

Sherlock stayed in that position for at least another hour and when he finally spoke it was only to say;

"Leave."


	3. Leave?

_What the bloody fuck? _John was taken aback, it seemed like Sherlock would've been able to handle the revelation better than this. He explained everything to him and he was completely truthful which, not a lot of people have the luxury of getting. What more did he want?

Sherlock was glaring at him now, because he was standing, jaw dropped in the doorway making no move to leave. Shutting his mouth John glared right back at him, he saw Sherlock flinch.

"What the fuck, Sherlock. You wanted me here, even after the incident at the pool, what changed?" The last two words were a whisper. He really had no idea what had changed since then and now and all he wanted was Sherlock to change his mind so they could sit and have tea. But obviously that wasn't going to happen, so he stomped up to his room to grab the first suitcase he could find and stuff it full of clothes.

When he got back downstairs, Sherlock was facing the back of the couch and it was clear to him he wasn't getting an answer so he left without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

John felt odd standing on James' doorstep, but he had nowhere else to go, he had given James this flat after he met Sherlock and moved in with him. It shouldn't be that odd, but he hadn't lived in this flat for very long in the first place and it never felt like home to him either. He wasn't sure whether or not James was even home so he knocked and hoped for the best. Not even a minute later the door opened to reveal a smiling James, who's face dropped into worry when he saw John.

"Johnny? What happened?" John just shrugged and stepped past him into the flat.

Looking around the room he noticed it hadn't really changed. The small tv had been switched for a bigger flat screen (roughly 52"), a bunch of monitors were set up in the spare bedroom showing CCTV footage from all around London and there were bits and pieces of James' influence. The flat had been well looked after, better than when he had it but then again he was busy controlling a criminal empire and all that.

It was strange seeing James in stay at home clothes, it made him seem so much more normal. The grey sweats and the black Beegees t-shirt wasn't helping the matter at all. It wasn't like he was wearing anything fancy either, just blue jeans and his cream jumper. So he flopped on the couch and James went to make tea, he knew James was going to demand what happened as soon as he got back. But what would he even tell him? Sherlock kicked him out because he didn't like the fact he was a criminal? He would totally pull the 'I told you so' card, he had told John from the beginning that this was a bad idea but he had no say because John was the boss. It was a silly notion anyways, Sherlock was a consulting detective, who not only solves crimes but only likes criminals because they're interesting not as his best friend. And what did he really expect, Sherlock not to put him behind bars?

Everything about this had screamed horrible idea but all he wanted was to meet Sherlock Holmes and live under his nose, but now it had all gone to shit. Just then James came out of the kitchen carrying tea,_ (thank god_) and gives him a look.

"John Watson you tell me what happened or will I have to cut it out of you?" James snickered and John glared at him.

"Don't forget who you're talking to, James." His voice sounded monotone in his ears, this event shouldn't have affected him this he was a soldier for god's sake. But James continued to snicker and it was the end of John's fuse, he pounced.

John pinned James to floor, hands behind his back while he straddled his waist and James was still snickering so he shoved him harder into the floor.

"Ohh Johnny you fight dirty." And John didn't have the energy anymore, it was useless so he slumped to the floor beside James and covered his eyes with his arm. He just couldn't do it anymore, he was sick of trying and all he needed was to sleep. Or maybe get pissed, he knew James had the expensive alcohol, so why not?

Hauling himself to his feet, leaving James still lying on his stomach he rummaged around the cupboards until he found half a bottle of whiskey and plopped himself down at the kitchen table with a glass.

* * *

Took John about two hours to finish the bottle and he knew he was drunk. James had sat with him and had a few shots of vodka but nothing more, he claimed one of them had to be sober to help the other get to bed okay. John ranted to James about everything that had happened and how Sherlock was being a massive dick about it, kicking him out of the flat and such. His drunk ramblings weren't something to be proud of, he could hear his own voice slurring severely and decided it was time to go to bed.

Stumbling up from the table, James was immediately behind him with a glass of water and a few paracetamol for the hangover in the morning. James made sure John was tucked into bed all snug before he made him drink and take the pills, his head hit the pillow and he was asleep.

His dreams were colours, melting into one another, dancing and swirling. Green melting into yellow, yellow into gold, gold into orange and orange into red. The red turned into fire, a mixture of oranges and yellows accompanying the red. The fire danced into beautiful autumn leaves which fell at the slightest blue breeze, the blue breeze swirling into raging waves in the sea. The blues and greens mixing together to make their own unique colour which melded themselves into iris', the black pupil contrasting greatly with the bright colour and they were cold as if they were made of ice. The eyes were analyzing, like they were reading you like a book and they were familiar. The eyes then changed from cold to angry and a deep baritone voice rang out, echoing around in his mind.

"Leave."

John sat up in his bed covered in a cold sweat, he was shivering and his bed sheets were soaked. He had never once had a dream like that, especially one ending with Sherlock. God, what was wrong with him? Scrubbing his face with his hands he wiped away all the sweat and he was about to get out of bed when he mobile phone went off. There were 3 missed calls and 6 text messages. All from Sherlock and the latest text read.

_Shouldn't have left him alone, John. Finders keepers, losers weepers._

**_A/N: _****Wow fuck, sorry guys it's been almost a month since I last updated. I went on vacation, then my cousins slept over, I got caught up most nights talking to my boyfriend and honestly some nights I just didn't want to write. But I'm sooooo sorry (x10000) I should update more regularly now. xoxo I love you guys!**

**(Also I'm ecstatic that Panic! At the Disco is back)**


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